


His Alternative

by FoxyHeichou



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abused Harry Potter, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Hurt Harry Potter, Omega Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:26:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26630590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxyHeichou/pseuds/FoxyHeichou
Summary: Harrison was a child, but he was not naïve. He had grown up in a small cupboard, his body limited by his surroundings. The same could not be said for his mind. As he grew, you would often find him in the local library, devouring every book he could reach. By the time he got his Hogwarts letter, he was already at the level of the average American sophomore honor student. At a young age he knew why his relatives didn’t like him, but he didn’t fall victim to it. He had enough self-awareness to understand that being born a certain way wasn’t inherently bad. Nature had given him what he was, so he would utilize it as he saw fit.Nature made him a male, an omega, and it gave him magic. Just because society dictated that only females could be omegas and that magic didn’t exist, it didn’t mean it was true. Harry grew to realize, by the age of five, that society, and his relatives especially, were skewed. In another world, Harry was naïve, and he stupidly held onto the cream letter with a red wax seal as he walked into the kitchen to give his uncle the mail. In this world he carefully slipped it under his cupboard door before continuing to the kitchen.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 107





	His Alternative

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Franchise is entirely J.K. Rowling’s, this is my spin-off interpretation and is made with the intent of receiving absolutely zero royalties.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harrison was a child, but he was not naïve. He had grown up in a small cupboard, his body limited by his surroundings. The same could not be said for his mind. As he grew, you would often find him in the local library, devouring every book he could reach. By the time he got his Hogwarts letter, he was already at the level of the average American sophomore honor student. At a young age he knew why his relatives didn’t like him, but he didn’t fall victim to it. He had enough self-awareness to understand that being born a certain way wasn’t inherently bad. Nature had given him what he was, so he would utilize it as he saw fit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Franchise is entirely J.K. Rowling’s, this is my spin-off interpretation and is made with the intent of receiving absolutely zero royalties.

Harrison was a child, but he was not naïve. He had grown up in a small cupboard, his body limited by his surroundings. The same could not be said for his mind. As he grew, you would often find him in the local library, devouring every book he could reach. By the time he got his Hogwarts letter, he was already at the level of the average American sophomore honor student. At a young age he knew why his relatives didn’t like him, but he didn’t fall victim to it. He had enough self-awareness to understand that being born a certain way wasn’t inherently bad. Nature had given him what he was, so he would utilize it as he saw fit.

Nature made him a male, an omega, and it gave him magic. Just because society dictated that only females could be omegas and that magic didn’t exist, it didn’t mean it was true. Harry grew to realize, by the age of five, that society, and his relatives especially, were skewed. In another world, Harry was naïve, and he stupidly held onto the cream letter with a red wax seal as he walked into the kitchen to give his uncle the mail. In this world he carefully slipped it under his cupboard door before continuing to the kitchen. Harry was smart, he knew if any of his relatives saw it, he would not be given the opportunity to read it.

His day passed agonizingly slowly. Not only was his mind captured by the mysterious letter, distracting him from his chores, but it was early summer, and he had been told he needed to complete all of Dudley’s summer schoolwork for Smeltings before he could go to the library. His relatives didn’t like how Harry was smarter than his cousin, but as they realized he refused to diminish his mind for the likes of the Dursley’s, they learned to take advantage of it and instead assigned him yet another chore. Do all of Dudley’s schoolwork. Harry knew this was wrong, everything about his home life was wrong. But what was he to do? He was a child, if he reported it to an adult and something was done, he would go into the system. Harry was smart enough to know that was not a pleasant experience. No, he would simply make do with what he currently had until an opportunity presented itself. An opportunity like the letter.

When he was finally banished to his cupboard after dinner, he had to force himself to walk calmly, he was still only ten after all, and emotions were hard to control. As he sat on the old, moldy crib mattress, he carefully read over the letter. His brows were furrowed in suspicion before he had even cracked open the seal. This letter was addressed to ‘the cupboard under the stairs.' Someone out there knew he was in a less than savory situation, and they were doing nothing. Harry sighed heavily and opened the package. It didn’t take him long to read the succinct note and skim the supplies list. Oddly, it was formatted as if it was pre-determined he would be attending. Harry sat back in his cupboard and pondered over the letter.

It wasn’t particularly surprising that there was a school of magic, so that didn’t startle him. The seemingly medieval point of view however, did. In all the books he had read, he had continuously come across odd happenings before finally finding a very old, very dusty, book that explained the origins of magic with Merlin and Morgana. That took place before the splitting of the church and the crusades. So why was the magical world still maintaining such an old perspective? Along with that, why was the letter, and assumedly the professor behind the letter, so presumptive? Harry fell asleep with these thoughts in his head. When he woke, he came to a conclusion. He would accept the offer to attend, it would have to be extremely bad to be worse than his current accommodations, and if he didn’t like it, he would simply stop attending. 

He had no idea of just how bad it would be.

His ride on the Hogwarts express had been, thankfully, calm. Well, calm may be a bit too kind of a word. As soon as he had arrived at the station he had discovered he had no clue how to get to platform 9 ¾. Not only this, but he had no school materials, maybe the school would have a shop? He had overheard a very large family of redheads talking about the platform and observed as they walked through a wall only to walk back out and continue the conversation. This was confusing, either it was an illusion to provide directions for children like him or they were baiting someone. Harry sighed and ran through the wall the next time they went through. He was surprised to find the bright red train.

From the time the train had started moving to the time it had pulled into the town with the sign calling it Hogsmeade, there had been three attempted break-ins to his compartment. When he had first gotten on the train he had immediately secluded himself in an empty compartment with his books on astrology and mathematics and locked the door. The first attempt had been by a boy who sounded his age, but also angry. He had eventually given up storming off whining about how he couldn’t find the ‘stupid Scarhead’. The second was by a girl, who upon being unable to open the compartment started shouting about disrespect and a missing toad. She too eventually gave up. The third didn’t come as a surprise to Harry. This was by another boy, but what confused him most was the boys parting sentence. “Come Crabbe, Goyle, my father has made it my mission to befriend Potter. He wants him for the Dark Lord.’

When they got to Hogsmeade Harry hesitated before leaving the train, waiting for the rest of the student population to leave before following the majority towards a bunch of carriages. He sat in the very last one waiting for it to move. It took a few minutes but as he heard the noise from the crowd diminish the carriage jolted into movement. It wouldn’t be much longer now he assumed. When he finally disembarked the carriage and watched as the students before him were examined by the grumpy man at the gate he decided he would find a way to avoid the man. He slunk into the shadows and slowly and carefully worked his way past the gate and up to the castle. Unaware that he was supposed to be in the great hall, Harry began to wander. He started at the top and worked his way down. He had discovered a locked door with seemingly very serious discussions happening behind it before continuing down. He eventually ended up in the wards room.

Unknown to Harry, this set off quite a few alarms in the board room. Moments after he entered the room with weird carvings he was being swarmed by a mass of adults with odd sticks pointed at him. His many years under the Dursleys took hold and he found himself crouching on the floor and covering his ears and head, awaiting a punishment. His blood was rushing through his ears and he couldn’t hear the concerned adults or the confused conversation about the seemingly tampered with wards. A particularly tall and spindly woman with long black hair and dark purple robes approached him first. He could smell she was a Beta, he relaxed minutely at this but maintained an overly cautious disposition after all, Aunt Petunia was a Beta, and she hit him with frying pans. He flinched and squeezed his eyes shut as a hand reached out. He fell into a coping habit he had had for years, repeatedly listing the periodic table. With his eyes shut tightly and his hands clenched over his ears he was unable to hear much of what was happening around him. Hi attention was caught however, when a deep voice called out.

“Step away from him! He is obviously frightened you imbeciles! You must not have taken the teachers course on abused children very seriously if this is how you are reacting! Give him space and for Merlin’s sake would all of you shut up!?” I let my eyes peel open slowly and lifted my head almost imperceptibly to lock gazes with a man clad in dark robes. His nose looked as if it had been broken before and despite the sallow and intimidating look of his face, his eyes were soft, and understanding. Something in me knew, he had been through the same as me. I let my hands fall from my ears and sat down fully, crossing my legs ‘crisscross applesauce’. My eyes never left his. The world faded around me and what seemed like hours but was probably actually only moments passed before the man spoke.

“What is your name, child?” His voice was deep, and gruff, but he spoke quietly. I liked that, I responded in kind. Maybe he would like if I spoke quietly.

“My relatives call me ‘Freak’ or ‘Boy’, but the primary school teacher called me ‘Harry’ or ‘Harrison’. Personally, I’m partial to Harrison, but you may call me whatever you wish.” I kept my tone even, despite the tension I felt filling up my chest. The man’s brows furrowed ever so slightly, and he sighed softly before nodding slowly and responding.

“Well, if you’re alright with it, I’ll call you Harrison. In return, you may call me Severus if you wish.” I blinked slowly and nodded once. I wanted to say something, but I stopped myself in fear. It was obvious the man noticed as he tilted his head, smiled slightly, and spoke again. “You can speak freely to me Harrison; I will not harm you.” I smiled shyly and glanced down at my fiddling fingers, maintaining the soft tone we had been speaking in from the start.

“Severus is a little long, could I call you Sev? If not I understand…” I glanced up to gauge his reaction and sagged a little in relief as he only smiled and nodded at me.

“Do you know where you are Harrison?” I nodded quickly before speaking once again. This man, Sev, was kind. I wanted to please him.

“I am at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” He nodded in agreement.

“Good, you are a first year, correct?” I smiled softly up at him and nodded once more.

“Can I ask why you did not take the boats like the other first years?” I hummed in thought, scrunching my brows.

“I didn’t see any boats, I’m sorry. I took the last carriage, the one pulled by the sweet black horses. They look like me, with their ribs visible through their skin. I think they should eat more.” I nodded in agreement to my own statement, maintaining eye-contact with Sev.

“There’s no need to apologize Harrison. I was only curious. Do you happen to have your acceptance letter with you?” I hummed and pulled out a small cardboard box from my sock. I waved my hand over it and it enlarged into a box about 12’x6’6’. I opened it to pull out the cream acceptance letter. I handed it to the man and waited as his eyebrows furrowed as he read over the front.

“This is addressed to a ‘Mr. H. Potter, The Cupboard Under The Stairs at Number 4, Little Whinging, Surrey.” I could tell the man was not speaking to me, rather the room, as the volume of his voice had changed. I turned my head towards an older witch clad in deep green robes when she gasped out. Her voice was shrill and loud when she spoke. I couldn’t help but wince away and cover my ears once more.

“You mean to tell me this child is Harry Potter!?” The rest of the adults noticeably gasped and a cacophony rose in the room. I squeezed my eyes shut once more and buried my face into my knees, hoping to drown out the loud disturbance. I wanted to talk to Sev again. I jolted as I was pulled into a warm embrace but didn’t pull away as after a glance up I took note that it was Sev holding me. I buried my face into his chest and began mumbling the periodic table. I wanted this night to be over.


End file.
